Mess. From England. Mordred hath made him King.
Arthur. Nay! nay!
Mess. ’Tis true, and seized the Queen.
Arthur. Great Heaven!
Mess. Even now he sitteth robed in thy late state,
And wieldeth puissance.
Gwaine. The damned hunchback!
Arthur. Oh World, would I were gone! My Queen untrue,
My heart’s best brother traitor, even my son,
Mine ill-got son doth rend me. Who would now